


That Which Does Not Kill Us -- Or Does It?

by KayleeArafinwiel



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:25:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3518765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayleeArafinwiel/pseuds/KayleeArafinwiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the marriage of Faramir and Éowyn, the White Lady of Rohan and new Princess of Ithilien makes the acquaintance of a certain Elf-Lord, and they discuss the similarity of their most trying experiences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Which Does Not Kill Us -- Or Does It?

**Author's Note:**

> B2MeM Challenge:  
> Glorfindel meets the woman whose actions he prophesied~ Friendship, banter, mutual respect, playing with each other's hair, serious discussions, sparring, riding, anything you like!
> 
> I do ship Eowyn/Faramir, Faramir can be as involved as you like, or entirely absent - I just think Glorfindel and Eowyn would make epic friends!

“ _’Do not pursue him! He will not return to this land. Far off yet is his doom, and not by the hand of man shall he fall.’_  Were these not the words you spoke, lord, in the time of Eärnur of Gondor?”  
  
Glorfindel had been so intent on the tapestry displaying the last charge of Eärnur, he had not heard the approach of the White Lady of Rohan, now Lady of Ithilien. Silently scolding himself, he turned, and bowed his head to her. “It is so, Lady Éowyn,” he said. “I remember well that day, and those words. It was, and is, my opinion that Eärnur was a reckless Man.”   
  
“History would seem to bear that out,” Éowyn said with a faint smile. “Yet, if Gondor’s last King had not ridden to his doom and the line of Ruling Stewards taken their office, would my Faramir be here today? Perhaps not.”  
“Perhaps,” Glorfindel countered. “Though I wonder what might have become of the Stewards’ line, had Arvedui’s claim been accepted?” He frowned slightly. “Well. It matters not. Estel – that is, Aragorn, the Dúnadan, sits the throne, as is his right – in no small part thanks to you, my lady.”  
  
Éowyn nodded. “I sought death upon the field,” she admitted. “Death and glory at the last. The one I thought I loved had no intention of returning my regard, and I had no intention of sitting at home, a pretty songbird in a gilded cage.”   
  
“Death was nearly your lot, my lady,” Glorfindel responded gravely. “But I think at the last, death was not what you sought. You defended Théoden’s fallen body out of love and loyalty, with great courage. You accepted death as a possibility in that moment, but it was no longer your motive. Is that so?”  
  
Éowyn averted her eyes. “When Merry and I confronted that one at last, I was terrified,” she admitted. “I have never been so frightened. But I fought – for my Uncle, for my Holdwine, for my people. I had no thought for myself any longer.”   
  
“I felt the same way,” Glorfindel said with a nod. “My thoughts were for my king and his family – especially young Eärendil, whom I loved as a son. Yet I was afraid to the very core of my being, as I took up sword and shield to fight the Enemy’s abomination. Courage is not the absence of fear, Lady Éowyn. I think you know this.”  
  
Éowyn nodded. “It is the ability, nay, the need, to fight on despite fear,” she replied. “By summoning courage in the face of adversity, we showed how great was our love.”  
  
“You are young to have learned such a lesson, Éowyn of Rohan,” Glorfindel said softly. “It grieves me that the Enemy has touched you so deeply. I understand it is said, however, that what does not kill you makes you stronger. I suppose that is true enough.”  
  
Éowyn’s eyes sparkled, and she gave him an impish smile. “And sometimes even if it does. Kill you, I mean.”  
  
Glorfindel stared, then threw back his head and laughed. “I think we will make good friends, Lady Éowyn.”  
  
“If you do not think me forward, I would name you sword-brother, Glorfindel of Gondolin and Imladris, for we have both passed through death – or as near as I might come – and lived to tell the tale.” Éowyn looked at the Elf-lord, wondering if she had overstepped her bounds. He bent to kiss her on the brow, and then straightened, nodding.   
  
“Be then my champion in the Mortal lands, Éowyn, my sister, and for my part, I will never let your tale be forgotten in the lands beyond the Sea when at last I go.”  
  
They traded a warrior’s arm-clasp and nods of deep understanding.   
  
“Éowyn!” Faramir’s voice echoed from the doorway of the tapestried Hall of Kings. With a smile, Éowyn took her leave of Glorfindel, and hurried to join her husband.


End file.
